Page 10 of Summer Breakdown
Frankie tells her something true. “I don’t know.”
Jasmine doesn’t call her a loser. She looks at her with the gaze Frankie can’t seem to feel one hundred percent comfortable under. It feels foreign and natural at the same time. She wants to shy away from it, but she’s terrified to miss a moment with Jasmine when she knows it’ll be over soon.
Jasmine runs her thumbs down the back of Frankie’s neck, and she shivers with the contact. “But I wanna do it,” Jasmine pleads.
“I thought good sex was paying attention,” Frankie whispers, but she’s about to go through every single orgasm she’s ever had to figure out what she wants Jasmine to do to her.
“It is,” Jasmine replies. “But you’re allowed to say what you like anyway. What if you hate someone going down on you and I’m spelling my name with my tongue like Google taught me?”
Frankie sighs. “I’m obsessed with you.”
“Tell me something, then,” she replies. Her eyes dip to Frankie’s neck, and Frankie swallows with the mere reminder of her lips against her skin. It makes thinking about anything too hard. She finds the first truth she can and lets it free.
“I’ve never had a strap-on used on me.”Well.Could have been slightly more demure.
Jasmine’s eyes darken. “Out of choice? Or it just hasn’t happened?”
Frankie shrugs. “I’m not against it.” She’s sure she’d love it, but that’s not her place in any situation. She’s the musclyone—butch, if someone else described her. She fucks people. She doesn’t get fucked.
Jasmine drops one hand and pulls her phone out of her bag.
Frankie frowns. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing if someone will deliver a strap in thirty minutes.” Frankie cackles. She can see Jasmine’s smile even through the tears in her eyes.
“Next time.”
“Next time?” Jasmine asks. Her eyes move across Frankie’s face so fast she can’t tell what she’s looking at. Maybe the wrinkles by her eyes or the tears falling down her cheeks. Maybe she’s thinking about how her nose doesn’t match the rest of her face. Maybe she’s thinking why the fuck would she want to see her again.
Jasmine runs her tongue along Frankie’s top lip. “Come back to me.”
Frankie groans, her hand against Jasmine’s jaw. “I can’t believe you won’t kiss me.”
Jasmine smiles. “I can’t believe you think I’m going to rock your world so hard you wanna see me again.”
Frankie thinks she would see her again. Even if they didn’t have sex. Even if they do and it’s awful. This night alone has been enough that she would want to see her again.
“I can’t believe—” Frankie starts, but it’s no use. Jasmine finally kisses her.
Frankie tries to play it cool, but it doesn’t work. Her hands are in Jasmine’s hair, running down her back, gripping her hips. Jasmine’s hand stays against her arm—as she thought it would—the other cradling the back of her neck.
Jasmine tastes like cherry, and Frankie always thought Katy Perry was pretending to like kissing girls, but she was right on the money. Frankie does like it. She’s always liked kissing. She didn’t realise how badly she craved being kissed—letting someone else call the shots when they so clearly want her. Jasmine is obvious with her tongue,with the way she pulls at her lip, with the way she changes things to how Frankie reacts.
Jasmine pulls back, panting, but Frankie’s right there. She kisses her again, her tongue finding a home against the roof of her mouth. Jasmine doesn’t ask her to stop; she meets her in the middle, and Frankie will think about the moans she makes to get through every difficult day.
“Do you have a thing for arms?” Frankie asks when Jasmine finally pulls back, her hand lingering around Frankie’s bicep. Frankie’s mind was getting spotty, the only thing left the outline of Jasmine. She really might have passed out instead of pulling away.
“I have a thing for yours. You’re beautiful,” Jasmine says casually, like she isn’t lying, but Frankie can’t ask her that because she’s kissing her again. Frankie crumbles under the weight of her praise like a sack of potatoes. She doesn’t get called beautiful unless it’s a trick. The girls she takes home love praise. They love affection, and Frankie’s good at it. She’s not sure she likes it the other way around. Still, the compliment plays around in her mind. She needs to figure out if it’s a joke. Frankie isn’t sure how she’d deal with it right now.
The moment she has air, she uses it to ask, “You think I’m beautiful?”
Jasmine smiles against her neck. Frankie wants to keep her here, to wear her smile like a locket… or something that doesn’t make her sound like Jack the Ripper.
“Frankie.” Jasmine kisses her throat. “My girl, I think you’re divine.”
Frankie takes a deep breath, letting the words ‘my girl’ float around her heart like she isn’t doomed to never see Jasmine again but think about her with every shine of moonlight. People lie to get what they want all the time. She’s not sure why she’s so desperate to believe it now.
“If that were true, you’d kiss me again,” Frankie whispers, and Jasmine is quick with it. It’s thrilling to kiss a womanwho wants to kiss a woman. Not for the checkbox, not for the male gaze, but because that’s what’s in her heart. Frankie didn’t think it would matter, but as Jasmine gasps, moving her hand up Frankie’s top, Frankie realises it’s the most important part. Jasmine groans as her fingertips creep higher.
